


While You're Here

by missdaffodil



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor Harry Potter, Gay Draco Malfoy, M/M, POV Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24636307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdaffodil/pseuds/missdaffodil
Summary: Draco Malfoy unexpectedly turns up at Harry Potter's doorstep, unsure as to why the universe sent him there. Through late night conversations and trips on a canal boat, the two begin to notice the deeper bond they'd spent years hiding.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 11
Collections: Harry Potter/Draco Malfoy





	While You're Here

The door to Harry’s cottage swung open as he carried through his trunks. After struggling to get them all in, he finally collapsed onto the sofa. A large grin tugged at his lips as he stretched across the sofa, happy to be home at last.

It had been a tough year at Hogwarts. Being a Defence Against the Dark Arts professor took its toll on Harry each year, but he always looked forward to going back and teaching brand new faces. That was the most exciting part.

With a flick of his wand, Harry got the fire going as even though it was summer, it was a very cold, wet, and stormy summer. There had been only a few days of blistering sunshine before the clouds had surrounded England and poured down. Not that Harry minded, he loved the rain.

After some moments of reflection on the past year, Harry finally decided to get up to make some food. There was little effort left in him from the long journey home, travelling from the top of the country to the very bottom. Harry didn’t mind taking the Hogwarts train rather than apparating home. It was nostalgic to him, sitting in those same carriages he sat in with Hermione and Ron for the first time fourteen years ago. He would make his way through the carriages of the train, chatting to any student that said hello to him. He truly loved being a professor at Hogwarts.

Though happy to be home, the cottage seemed empty. It was so quiet; the lights were all off and the curtains all drawn. Harry flicked his wand again, making all the lights switch on simultaneously. He pondered into the kitchen, yawning as he did, and looked through his cupboards. He knew Mrs Weasley would have left him some food; she did every year since he started at Hogwarts. She was the only person allowed into his cottage during term time. In the cupboard Harry found some pasta, which was perfect for what he needed right now, something sustainable and quick to cook.

As the pasta boiled, he made his way round his quaint little cottage, checking everything was still in order. There was still a lot of paranoia left in Harry’s mind, he was still unable to let go of his past. The thoughts of someone breaking into his cottage while he was gone and stealing something he treasured, or someone awaiting his arrival home shrouded his mind and terrified him to the core. But, upon a quick inspection while his pasta cooked, everything seemed normal.

He paused for a moment at his bedroom, staring at the double bed. His memory flashed back to a few years ago, when he and Ginny lay together, hands gently entwined. Her beautiful ginger locks would tickle Harry’s cheek as they cuddled, her tinkly laughter filling the room.

Their relationship had fizzled a year ago, and she had moved out. They both wanted different things. She went on to play for the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch team, and she loved every second of it. Harry adored seeing her thrive in something she was excelling at. But she was always gone to play matches, and he spent most of the year on the grounds of Hogwarts, not wanting to leave during Christmas as it was so magical at that time of year. Naturally, their relationship died, but they remained friendly whenever they saw each other. Sometimes Harry missed her touch, her voice calling him in the morning, sitting by the fire with hot chocolates together, but he always knew it was for the best.

After finishing his pasta, Harry retired to bed. He was exhausted from the long journey and was more than excited to finally curl up under his covers, in his own bed. The beds at Hogwarts were definitely comfortable, but there was no better feeling than his own bed.

***

Excitedly, Harry set out to the canal. There was nothing he missed more than boating. He’d picked up the hobby after he’d left Hogwarts, becoming interested when he had made a friend who sailed.

For the year after defeating Voldemort, Harry had no idea what to do with himself. His whole identity was to defeat Voldemort and that had gone within one day. Of course he was celebrated, everyone would congratulate him on the streets, and this time it was even more than before, as Voldemort was actually dead. Everyone had seen his lifeless body lay there, unlike all those years ago at Godric’s Hollow. This time the fame had really gotten to Harry, and he lost himself. It was his sudden love of canal boating that brought him back.

Harry could barely remember that year. It was such a blur, and his alcohol dependency didn’t help. Turning eighteen, being the boy who actually did kill Voldemort, along with losing so many people he loved in just one night took its toll. But one morning after a long night of drinking, he ended up among a canal in the London countryside. The sun was just about to rise, and the streets were silent, aside from one man named Ryan. It was a brief friendship, but Harry held it dear to his heart.

Ryan was getting ready to go boating when he spotted Harry, stumbling along near the canal docks before plopping himself down near the water’s edge. Ryan had headed over to Harry, asked him if he needed any help.

“No thanks,” slurred Harry in response. “Is that your boat?”

“Yes, isn’t she a beauty? She’s a Narrowboat, helps to get round these tight canals. Do you go sailing?”

“No,” said Harry, still staring at the dark red boat, mesmerised by its colour. “I don’t.”

“Would you like to? I’ll let you come along for the ride. I’m only going until the next docks, probably an hour or so.”

“You’d really let me?” asked Harry, looking up at the stranger. He had a kind face, light brown hair and had a short build. Similar height to Harry.

“Why not? I could do with the company.” Harry managed to clamber onto the boat, his head spinning as he did. It was lovely inside, like a little home. There was a little table and some chairs, a kitchen area and a sofa.

“Make yourself at home,” said Ryan, gesturing to the place, “I need to release the rope,” and he climbed back up. Harry just looked around, taken aback at how beautiful the boat was. He sat on the sofa, staring out of the window at the rising sun as the boat gently bobbed up and down.

Once they had set sail, Harry joined Ryan on the deck. Ryan even let Harry take control of the boat, ensuring it didn’t veer off course, while he made them cups of tea. They both sat, the sun warming their bodies up, sipping tea on the deck.

“Ever been on a canal boat before? I don’t think I know your name yet,” said Ryan.

“Harry. Harry Potter. No, I haven’t. It’s lovely,” responded Harry, having another sip of tea which was slowly sobering him up.

“Isn’t it? It’s a great way to escape the world for a while, just watch everything go by. I started boating when I got divorced. I needed something to help me through the rough times, and it really did,” explained Ryan with a gentle smile. “Maybe you should look into it.”

“I think I will,” said Harry, just staring at the trees that passed them by.

Harry looked around, ensuring no one was near, before pulling out his wand. With a quick flick, his canal boat came into view as he undid the cloaking spell. The same as Ryan, Harry owned a narrowboat as Ryan had told him how good they were for the London canals. Harry’s was a deep green colour, with gold detailing all around.

Climbing on, Harry started to pull the rope that anchored it down on the docks, before setting sail. There was nothing more relaxing, he thought, than sitting on the deck and watching the world go by. He enjoyed every second of it, all his bad thoughts went away and he focused on the landscape. Every now and then, he’d have a go at drawing the sites he saw, even though he wasn’t very good. It relaxed him, and he wished he could just escape everything and sail on his canal boat. Escape his past, his future, everything that burdened and had scarred him.

But he couldn’t.

Pulling into a new dock, Harry clambered off the boat. Once again ensuring there were no muggles near, he put a cloaking spell on the boat, following that with a ward to make sure no one accidentally bumped into his invisible canal boat.

It was now around nine in the morning, and Harry decided to explore the little town he had stumbled across. This was another part of canal boating he loved, finding new places to explore. Afterwards he could just apparate home, a reason he loved being a wizard.

The town seemed sleepy, not many people were about. It was quiet, the sound of birds chirped in the distance and the sun warmed Harry’s face. It was the first day in a while that had been warm, but according to the clouds, that would change soon.

Harry wandered around the quiet town, looking at the shops that were starting to open. They were all very quaint, it reminded him somewhat of Wales, and he knew he would have to come back here sometime. Maybe bring Ron, Hermione and their kids, he thought, they’d like that very much.

There was a small coffee shop appearing in his vision. Smiling a small smile, he decided to go and get a cup of coffee before apparating home. The coffee shop was very sweet. It was all a pastel yellow colour, with shabby chic tables and chairs, all decorated with a bouquet of flowers. He was the only one in there, so he got quick service. The coffee was delightful, one of the best he’d ever tasted, he thought.

Harry watched out the window, looking at the people who were walking past. It was starting to liven up a bit now, there were families walking together, businessmen with their briefcases rushing by, mothers with pushchairs having a leisurely stroll. Harry enjoyed people watching, especially muggles. Their lives were so much simpler than Harry’s, they’d never understand what he had been through, what he was still going through. Their worries would be what shoes to wear, or how much money they could spend without going into their overdraft. Of course Harry knew they had bigger worries than that, but even those seemed so miniscule to what Harry had been through.

After spending an hour in the coffee shop, having two coffees, and listening to muggle conversations, he decided to go home. He found a private corner, away from any muggles, and apparated. Suddenly he was back in his living room. The feeling of apparating never got better, it always made Harry’s stomach churn. He remembered back to the first time he apparated, a side-along apparition with Professor Dumbledore. The feeling made Harry extremely queasy and it happened so quick. Nowadays, he apparated often, it was such an easy mode of transport to him. But, if he could floo somewhere, he’d pick that over apparition any day.

Harry was about to settle in front of the fire now the rain hard started, reading a book, when there was a knock on his door. Finding this odd, he got up to go and answer. It couldn’t be Hermione or Ron; they’d both be at work by now. Mrs Weasley, possibly, as she was always popping over to see how Harry was and to give him some company when he was back from Hogwarts. She still treated him like a son.

Opening the door, Harry felt his whole body freeze. He stared at the tall figure in front of him, not blinking, not moving. In front of him stood Draco Malfoy.

Finally, he was able to speak. “M-Malfoy?”

“What’s wrong, Potter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” responded Malfoy with a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“How are you here? Aren’t you-“

“Are you going to let me in?” asked Malfoy impatiently. Moving to the side, Harry watched as Malfoy gracefully swept into the room. He was clothed in a long black cloak, held together with an ‘M’ pin. It took Harry a few seconds before he closed the door.

Malfoy looked around the room he’d walked into, then turned to Harry. “This is exactly how I expected it to be.”

“Malfoy, I don’t understand,” said Harry quietly. His mouth felt dry, he needed a glass of water. Malfoy spent a few moments thinking about what to say. He stayed faced away from Harry, staring out of the window that looked upon some woods.

“It seems you’re the only person who can open the door to me, Potter,” said Malfoy after a while. He turned back around to face Harry, giving him a small smile, something Harry couldn’t remember seeing on him since their fifth year at Hogwarts.

Harry decided to not ask any further questions. Instead, he waved his hand towards the sofa, inviting Malfoy to sit down. The tall, slender figure moved to the sofa, looking at it for a few moments, before hesitantly sitting.

“Do you want anything? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” replied Malfoy. Nodding, Harry made himself a cup anyway, tapping the teapot with his wand to boil the water. He looked back over at Malfoy, who was staring at the fire that was lit. It illuminated his ghostly face, his white-blonde hair looking more yellow from the flames, his grey eyes warmer but still sad and lost looking. The same eyes that had stared at Dumbledore with the same sadness to them moments before his death.

Harry settled on the armchair that sat next to the sofa Malfoy was on, watching him carefully.

“What, Potter?” asked Malfoy, obviously irritated, still staring at the fire.

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” asked Harry. As he looked down at his cup of tea, he noticed his hands were shaking.

“I already told you,” he responded, looking at Harry finally. “Il semble que je ne peux que te voir.”

“I don’t speak French,” said Harry, sipping his tea. He felt annoyed.

“I don’t know why it is the way it is,” Malfoy seemed to be speaking no sense, “but I need to find out. I need you to help me find out.”

“And what does that entail?”

“I don’t know just yet, Potter,” Malfoy looked around again, breathing deeply. “But I don’t think I can rest until I figure it out.”


End file.
